


Flower Power

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Consensual, First Time, M/M, Piercings, Tattoos, Tent Sex, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 04:03:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>15 year old Harry gets lost at a festival and meets biker!Zayn, who is all too happy to take care of him...</p><p>Written for the prompt of <i>25 y/o bad boy Zayn with flat hair, dressed in docs, ripped dark skinny jeans and his worn leather jacket, covered in tattoos and snake-bite lip piercings domming a very innocent flower crown wearing 15 y/o pretty little sub boy with big green eyes and plump pink lips, named Harry.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Flower Power

Harry stumbled on through the crowds with a mounting sense of unease threatening to overwhelm his natural optimism. When he'd first got separated from his friends in the packed festival he hadn't been that worried, assuming he'd run into them again at some point. It was only as the day had worn on and he hadn't caught sight of them, that he'd started to appreciate just how big this festival was. That had been hours ago, and he was tired, foot-sore, and had no idea where his tent was. The last straw had come a few minutes ago when he'd discovered his wallet was gone - plucked from his back pocket at some point without him even feeling it go.

Suddenly the people around him seemed more threatening than they had a moment ago. Nearly everyone was taller than him, older than him, drunker than him. The sun was going down and after hours of feeling hot and thirsty, the evening breeze against the drying sweat on his body made him shiver.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" 

Harry jumped and looked down. Distracted, he'd wandered off the main path and into one of the camping areas, and was so busy trying to spot his tent amongst the thousands of identical rows of canvas, that he'd knocked over someone's bottle of beer. He stammered an apology, eyes widening as he took in the appearance of the man snatching the bottle back out of the grass. Shaved head, tattoos, leather vest - Harry's breath caught in his throat as the man looked up at him. Apparently deciding Harry was too inoffensive looking to bother with, he frowned and flicked a hand at him in dismissal.

Harry took a quick step backwards in relief, only to bang into another body behind him. Hands came to rest on his shoulders, and he'd wrenched himself free in sudden fright before registering that the hands had been steadying him, stopping him fall over.

"Easy, kid. We ain't gonna eat ya." The man who he'd bumped into raised his hands in a mocking indication of harmlessness. He didn't look harmless. He looked terrifying. Harry looked round desperately, realising he was surrounded by leather clad bikers, and looking for a way out. 

"What have we got here?" The men in front of Harry moved aside to let someone else through, someone who looked down at Harry as if he was a member of a different species. He must look it, Harry thought, taking in the newcomer's appearance. Biker boots, black jeans that looked sprayed on, leather jacket hanging open over a ripped t-shirt. Silver rings on both hands, and a silver hoop curling over each corner of his bottom lip, that Harry stared at in fascination. 

"Problem?" 

Harry blinked, swallowed, wrenched his gaze up to meet the man's eyes. To his relief, they didn’t look angry, just amused.

"No. Sorry." Harry flushed as the dark eyes continued staring at him. "I, ah. I'm just a bit - lost."

"Lost your mummy? Oh dear." The men standing around him sniggered, and Harry felt a flush of embarrassment. 

"I'm not _with_ my mother," he said indignantly, trying for haughty indignance and falling short.

The sniggering turned into open laughter, and to his shame Harry felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

His misery must have shown, because the young man's expression softened slightly "Hey, ignore them. You're in no danger from us. What's your name?"

"Harry."

"Well, hey Harry. I'm Zayn." 

Harry mustered a tentative smile and Zayn smiled back, then gave a sudden laugh. "Hey, guys, I think we found ourselves a new mascot."

There was more laughter and Harry flinched, but this time it was less abrasive, and the men standing around him started to drift off again, sitting back down and going back to their conversations until it was just him and Zayn standing there.

Zayn frowned, looking properly at Harry for the first time. "You okay kid? Are you really lost?"

Harry nodded wearily. "I can't find my friends. Or my tent. And I lost my wallet, and I haven't got any money, and I'm just so tired." He trailed off, feeling silly and small and wishing he'd never come. To his surprise though, Zayn slung an arm round his shoulders.

"You wanna beer?"

Harry hesitated, wary of accepting a drink from a stranger, but his raging thirst overruled him and he nodded. To his relief he was tossed a bottle from a cooler and handed an opener. He levered the cap off himself with inexpert fumbling, and drank gratefully. 

Zayn flung himself down on the grass and grabbed a bottle, patting the ground to indicate Harry should join him. He sat next to him, smiling shyly.

"Thanks." 

"No worries." Zayn held out his bottle and clinked it against Harry's. "You looked like you could do with one."

"Wish I'd never come," Harry muttered.

"Aw, don't be like that." Zayn gave him a lopsided smile and stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his hands. It stretched his t-shirt over his chest, and Harry couldn't help looking at the outline of his body, taut and muscled underneath. Zayn's beer bottle was wedged in between his thighs to keep it upright, and it looked vaguely obscene. Harry shifted awkwardly, aware of a guilty twitch in his shorts.

Zayn was watching him again, although thankfully his gaze was fixed on Harry's face. "Do you come often? To the festival, I mean," he added slyly, smirking at the immediate blush blooming on Harry's cheeks.

Harry shook his head. "First time."

"We come every year." Zayn took a long drink from the bottle, aware of Harry watching his throat as he swallowed. 

"I wanted to come last year, but I wasn't - " Harry cut himself off just in time. 'Wasn't allowed,' he’d been going to say. Way to make an adult impression. "I couldn’t make it," he amended carefully. His mother hadn't wanted him to come this year either, it was only because Niall's older brother had promised to take care of them both that she'd eventually relented. He wondered briefly where they were, whether they were frantically looking for him, or just lying pissed in a field somewhere by now. He suspected the latter, and finished off his own beer in a spike of annoyance.

Zayn laughed softly, and handed him another bottle without being asked, flicking the cap off with a practised jerk of his wrist.

"I can't pay you for these," Harry said awkwardly, taking it anyway.

Zayn shook his head. "Don't be daft. We've got plenty. Spirit of the festival anyway, innit."

"Is it?"

"Peace and love and all that shit."

Harry smiled, and Zayn grinned at him. "That's better. Get that second one down you, you'll soon perk up. Looked like a lost fucking puppy for a minute there."

"You rescue puppies a lot?" Harry sipped from the second bottle more slowly. He'd been out in the sun all day with nothing to eat, and the first one was already making his head a bit swimmy.

"Totally. All the time, man. It's like our motto. Give us puppies or give us death." Zayn grinned and hefted his empty bottle thoughtfully, before tossing it overhead towards a row of tents opposite. It bounced off the canvas, clearly hitting someone inside judging by the indignant roar. "Shot!" Zayn punched the air as a sunburned face looked out at him and glared.

Zayn waved. "Hey Louis."

"Like you've ever been into puppies," Louis growled, having clearly been eavesdropping. "Last tits you were interested in were your mother's. Probably still are."

"Ah, go back to your wanking," Zayn called unconcernedly, and Louis' head disappeared crossly back into the tent to the echoing laughter of the others.

Harry had watched all this with a bemused smile. The banter between the bikers seemed rough and intimidating, but he was starting to see there was no malice to it.

"So." Zayn regarded him thoughtfully. "Truth time. How old are you, really?"

Harry considered lying, then sighed. "Fifteen." He stared at the bottle in his hands for a while, wondering if Zayn would take it away again, then realised that a group of half-pissed bikers probably wouldn’t care that much. "How old are you?" He asked, hoping to deflect attention.

"Twenty five." Zayn smirked. "Your mother know you're here?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Although probably figures I'm tucked up in a tent with my friend right now."

Zayn's smirk got distinctly dirtier. "Your friend a girl or a boy?"

"Boy."

"You fucking?"

"No!" Harry looked up, shocked. "We're - just friends."

"Huh. Good friends?"

"It's not like that!" 

"Okay, okay. Just asking." Zayn shrugged, and accepted a bottle of vodka that was being passed round. He took a swig, then held it out to Harry. "Want some?"

Harry took it cautiously. "I - I don't know."

"Well just pass it on then." Zayn let go, so Harry had to grab the bottle. He bit his lip, then took a swig. The liquid burned his throat, and he held the bottle out blindly, feeling unseen hands take it from him. He swallowed hard, desperately trying not to cough. 

Once the tears had been blinked out of his eyes and a fresh slug of beer had eased the convulsions of his throat, Harry felt a warmth in his belly that made him feel grown-up and slightly more confident. He found himself staring at the rings through Zayn's lip again, and licked his own lips thoughtfully.

"Did that hurt?" he asked.

Zayn pinched his lower lip between thumb and forefinger, as if he'd forgotten they were there. "Nah. Not really." He raised an eyebrow. "You like 'em?"

"They're great." Harry caught himself wondering what it would be like to kiss someone with lip rings like that, and looked away in case Zayn should somehow guess what he was thinking.

"You got any piercings?" Zayn asked conversationally, and Harry giggled.

"No."

"Just the flowers, huh?" 

"What?" Harry's hand flew to his head, feeling plastic petals crumple under his fingers. "Oh, God." He'd completely forgotten he was wearing a fucking flower crown, some stoned girl in bare feet and inadvisable tie-dye had bestowed it upon him hours ago. He must look like a complete twat. 

Harry pulled it off and threw it down on the grass, cheeks aflame. Zayn though, bent down and picked it up again. He shuffled over to kneel in front of Harry, and positioned it carefully back on his head.

"It suits you," he said quietly. "Never be ashamed of who you are, Harry."

Harry swallowed. Zayn was very close, he could smell his aftershave, or perhaps deodorant, mingled with beer, and cigarette smoke, and sweat. He was exactly the kind of guy Harry's mother spent hours warning his sister about. Maybe she should have warned Harry, too. It would be awful if Zayn was to push him down and take disgusting advantage of him, Harry thought, a touch wistfully. But Zayn had sat back down and was opening another beer, and Harry squirmed hastily round so his shorts were a bit baggier in the front and less likely to make it obvious he now had a semi.

The vodka bottle came round again, and this time Harry took a smaller swallow and managed not to choke. Another round of beers followed, and Harry was starting to feel a bit dizzy. The sun was almost down by now, the final rays hitting the tents across the valley. Where they were sitting was in deep shadow, and Harry's shivering was getting worse. 

"You cold?" Zayn yawned. "Hey Liam, get the fire going."

"What did your last slave die of?" came the grumpy response, but someone got up and started fiddling about with the stack of wood they'd clearly set up earlier. Harry recognised him as the guy whose beer he'd knocked over, and wondered if it was too late to apologise. He was also starting to realise that Zayn was apparently the leader of this little group, and that it was perhaps Zayn's interest that meant the rest were leaving him alone.

The wind got up even more, and Harry rubbed his arms. Beside him, Zayn slid off his leather jacket and draped it round Harry’s shoulders. "Better?"

Harry looked up at him in surprise, pulling it closer round him. It smelt of Zayn, the old leather soft against his skin, warmed from Zayn’s body. 

"Thank you."

"Can't have you catching a chill." Zayn smiled at him, and Harry felt a shiver run through him that had nothing to do with the cold. 

Now his jacket was off, Harry could see Zayn's arms were covered in tattoos, and he explored them with his eyes, fascinated. There were lots of them, intertwined into two full sleeves, and Harry wondered how long they'd taken.

Zayn had moved closer, and Harry was painfully conscious of Zayn’s leg pressed against his own. Zayn was leaning back, arm out behind him for support as he watched the flames take hold in the fire pit, helped along by a liberal splash of lighter fluid. Harry pretended Zayn's arm was around him, and sighed quietly. 

"You tired?" Zayn asked, taking Harry's sigh for a yawn.

Harry shook his head, although he was. The alcohol was making him sleepy and pliant, and he wondered if he dared lean against Zayn's shoulder.

Something else was being passed round the camp fire now, and Harry realised it was a cigarette. When it reached Zayn he took a long drag, eyes closed, then held it out to Harry. 

"You want to get high?" he murmured.

Years of parental and school-based stricture took hold, and Harry shook his head nervously, hoping Zayn wouldn't either press the matter or laugh at him.

Zayn just smiled lazily and passed the joint on to the man sitting on the far side of Harry without a word. Instead, he leaned in closer. Zayn's hand came to rest on his bare knee, and Harry's dick gave a fresh lurch of interest.

"How about sex? You want to get fucked?"

For a second Harry didn't believe his ears and just stared stupidly up at him. "What?"

"Do. You. Want. To. Fuck?" Zayn repeated, slowly and deliberately. He let his hand slide up Harry's leg, fingers stroking along his inner thigh.

"I - I - " Harry stuttered, suddenly struck with nerves. A moment ago he'd been happily fantasising about Zayn kissing him, but to be suddenly confronted with the reality of letting a man he'd only just met actually have sex with him was more than he could comfortably process.

Zayn grinned, looking slightly feral in the firelight. His fingers were teasing at the leg of Harry's shorts now, dipping under the material and exploring upwards. Harry could no longer hide the fact he was stiff as a board, his shorts tented incriminatingly over his dick.

"Yes? No? Maybe?" Zayn hazarded, letting his lips brush the edge of Harry's jaw. His hand ghosted lightly over the bulge in Harry's shorts, barely a touch, but enough to draw the material across the head of Harry's cock, making him stifle a whimper.

"...maybe?" Harry breathed, wondering if he was being stupidly reckless but suddenly desperate for Zayn to touch him again, touch him properly. 

He felt Zayn smile against his chin. 

"Come with me." Zayn stood up and held his hand out. Harry took it and let Zayn pull him to his feet. He swayed a little, abruptly discovering exactly how drunk he was, and Zayn slid an arm around his waist.

"Okay?"

Harry managed a nod, and Zayn lead him between a row of tents. They hadn't gone far before Zayn dropped to his knees and unzipped the front of one, gesturing for Harry to crawl inside first. 

Nervous and excited all at once, Harry did as he was bid, crawling on hands and knees into the warm interior. Soft fabric wrinkled under his hands, and he found himself sitting on Zayn's sleeping bag. A moment later, the noise of a zip told him Zayn had closed them in, and his heart beat faster in his chest.

"Well, hey there." Zayn joined him on the sleeping bag, grinning in the half-light and prising off his boots. "I don't think you need this on any more?" Zayn reached out and pushed his jacket off Harry's shoulders, spreading it over the rolled up jumper he'd apparently been using as a pillow.

Satisfied, he turned back to Harry, and cupped his jaw, tilting his head up gently and finally bending to kiss him.

Harry felt Zayn's lips against his mouth, the first kiss almost chaste, experimental. When he didn’t pull away, he felt Zayn’s lips part against him, the flicker of a tongue against his lips. Harry opened his mouth, felt Zayn immediately lick inside, possessing and greedy. 

He'd never kissed another boy before, never really _been_ kissed, not like this, not by someone who unequivocally knew what they were doing, knew what they wanted. He started kissing back, pushing his own tongue into Zayn's mouth, lips pressing harder against the ones working against his mouth.

Zayn made a noise of approval in his throat, pulled Harry into his arms, still kissing him. Somehow Harry was now on his back with Zayn's knee between his thighs, pressing against his groin. Zayn was bending over him, running his hands up under Harry's t-shirt. 

"Off."

Harry raised his arms obediently and Zayn pulled his t-shirt off over his head, taking the flower crown with it and chucking both somewhere into the shadows of the tent. He straddled Harry's legs and bent forward, licking at one dark nipple, then the other, then sat back, studying Harry's pale chest with a hungry pleasure. 

"You missed a couple." 

Zayn's expression of mildly predatory arousal slipped into a comical look of confusion as Harry guided his hand lower down over his ribs. After a second he started laughing.

"You do _not_ have extra nipples. What are you a fucking kitten, or a Bond villain?"

Harry shrugged, smiling, as Zayn shook his head in amusement. There'd been a moment when he'd felt a little uncomfortable, wondering whether he'd made the right choice in letting Zayn take him away from the others, but it had melted away with Zayn's genuine, easy laughter.

Zayn stripped his own shirt off, and Harry saw he had tattoos on his chest and torso as well. As they appeared to have jumped right to a certain level of intimacy, Harry reached out unashamedly and traced the lines with his fingers, curious and fascinated. Zayn let him, exploring Harry's unmarked body with his own interest, his teasing fingertips making the boy squirm beneath him.

Harry could feel Zayn getting hard in his jeans, and bit his lip self-consciously. The growing pressure pushed firmly against his own erection, and it was all he could do not to rub himself blatantly against it. Zayn lay down on top of him, kissing him again, the unfamiliar press of metal rings against his lips. Harry let his tongue run over the piercings, sucking Zayn's lip into his mouth and feeling the hum of approval it caused. Zayn was rubbing insistently up against him and Harry groaned without meaning to.

Laughing, Zayn sat up and hooked his fingers into Harry’s shorts, pulling them down his legs and off, along with his canvas shoes. Harry sat there with Zayn kneeling between his splayed legs, naked apart from his boxer shorts. He watched with nervous anticipation as Zayn unbuckled his own belt and unzipped his jeans, taking out his cock. It was considerably bigger than Harry's, and he took a shaky breath, not quite sure what Zayn was going to do.

"So, you going to suck it for me?" Zayn asked, sounding more hopeful than demanding. Harry's eyes half crossed trying to focus on the cock waving in front of his face and Zayn laughed. "Go on," he crooned. "Let me put it in your mouth like a good boy." He knelt there, stroking himself slowly and watching Harry's face.

Harry finally made up his mind and opened his mouth, not entirely sure what to do but assuming Zayn would take charge. He tensed slightly as Zayn pushed it between his lips, but the half-expected full thrust didn’t come, and he closed his lips around it, tongue flattened against the head. Zayn held himself still, smiling faintly as Harry explored him, licking hesitantly at first, then getting bolder, sucking around the head, licking up the side. Harry brought his hands up to steady the shaft, and left them there to stroke in place of Zayn's, head bobbing slowly now as he worked out how far in he could comfortably take him.

After a while Zayn started pushing slowly in and out, enjoying the swell of Harry's plump lips around his cock, the tickle of warm breath from Harry's nose, the way he seemed to be genuinely getting into it.

Finally, Zayn pulled back, a hand wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. It would be too easy to let Harry carry on and make him come, but he wanted more than just a blow job. He peeled his jeans off the rest of the way and reached out to take off Harry's boxers too. Harry looked a little startled, but he didn’t protest.

Zayn crawled over him, lying back down on top of him and letting his cock slide between Harry's parted legs. He kissed him, feeling Harry's swollen cock pressing against his stomach and feeling his own throb with need.

"So?" Zayn murmured against Harry’s throat, making heat prickle all down his body. 

"So?" Harry echoed breathily, a little confused and worried he'd missed something. Zayn smirked.

"We're still on a 'maybe', remember. So - you wanna fuck, or what?"

Harry bit his lip, fighting a losing battle against the blush re-taking possession of his face. Zayn was rocking against him, slowly and deliberately, and Harry was already worried about coming all over him by accident.

Zayn kissed him lightly on the lips. "We could just get each other off, if you'd rather?" he offered, the insistent pressure of his dick between Harry's legs making it clear which option he'd prefer.

"I want to..." Harry whispered, but there was a hesitation in his voice and Zayn stifled a sigh.

"But?" he prompted.

"It's - I just - um."

"Your first time?" Zayn guessed, and Harry nodded. "That's okay. I wasn’t expecting you to be an expert," Zayn smirked, dipping his head to roll one of Harry's nipples under his tongue.

Harry gave a breathy laugh, and shook his head. "Will you - you know. Use a thing?"

Zayn snorted. "Yeah, I got condoms."

"Okay." Harry nodded, and Zayn kissed him harder, tongue hot and suggestive in his mouth.

"Yeah? Was that a yes?" 

Harry nodded again. "Yes."

Zayn sat up, then reached out and tweaked Harry's nose. "Hold that thought." 

He climbed off him and started a mildly frantic search through his rucksack, giving Harry a moment to lie back and catch his breath. He watched Zayn move, realising for the first time he had tattoos on his back as well. He could see Zayn's erection bobbing in front of him as he shifted about, and felt a smile tugging at his lips. 

Harry felt vaguely as if he should be feeling guilty about this, but instead just felt a mounting excitement. There were still nerves too - would it hurt, would he be any good - but mostly Harry just wanted to know what it would feel like to have Zayn inside him. He started stroking himself, a slow, delicious pull of his fingers, just enough to keep him fully hard while Zayn emptied what appeared to be the entire contents of his rucksack over the tent.

"Aha!" Zayn sat up, having finally discovered a condom in the back pocket of his discarded jeans. He tore it open and sat down to roll it on, aware of Harry watching him intently. Looking up, he caught Harry's eye and grinned. "Watch and learn."

Harry giggled, then looked embarrassed. "I know how it works," he protested half-heartedly, knowing Zayn was only teasing but not wanting him to think he was clueless. 

"That's all right then." Zayn kissed him quickly, and winked. "Wouldn’t want it to come as a nasty surprise."

Harry rolled his eyes, and Zayn smirked. He pushed Harry firmly down onto the sleeping bag and picked up a tube of lubricant from the mess he'd tipped out across the tent floor. Harry lay where he'd been put, watching silently as Zayn squeezed some out on his fingers and worked it up his cock.

When he was satisfied, Zayn tossed the tube away and grinned at Harry. "Turn over. I want my little lost puppy on all fours."

Harry did as he was told, scrambling up onto hands and knees with his back to Zayn, breathing hard already. Zayn shuffled up behind him, and laid a soothing hand on Harry's back. 

"Relax," he murmured. "It's gonna hurt if you're all tense babe."

Harry let his head droop, trying to breathe deeply rather than fast and shallow. He rested on his forearms, jumping nervously as Zayn's hands came to rest on his buttocks, spreading them apart with his thumbs. 

Zayn pursed his lips then spat, a string of saliva dripping down over Harry's hole. He moved in until the head of his cock was nudging against Harry's body, sticky with lube and spit. "Okay?" he asked. "We good to go?"

"Uh huh." Harry simultaneously gritted his teeth and tried to relax. He felt Zayn pushing against him, fingers stretching him open and then a burst of pain as Zayn thrust past the tight ring of muscle and into his body.

He wasn't aware he'd cried out until the white noise in his head subsided a little, and he became conscious of Zayn stroking his back.

"Okay? Too much?" Zayn slid a hand round in front of him and squeezed Harry's cock encouragingly. "Good for a little more? Nearly there." He pushed further in, and Harry whined in pain, head falling to rest on his arms, gasping for breath.

To his relief and eternal gratitude Zayn held himself still for a moment, letting Harry get used to the feeling of being filled. It felt like he'd been split in two, there were tears in his eyes and for a miserable minute Harry thought he couldn’t do it, that he'd have to beg Zayn to stop. Gradually though, the initial flare of agony faded away and Harry found he could breathe normally again. 

"Okay." Harry lifted his head, feeling weak but oddly triumphant. "I'm okay."

Behind him Zayn laughed, but not unkindly. "Make a man out of you yet," he murmured, and thrust quickly the rest of the way in. Harry's eyes felt like they were going to pop out of his head, he hadn't imagined it was physically possible for Zayn to go any deeper, but now he could feel Zayn’s legs against the backs of his thighs, the brush of the hair at his groin, the soft press of his balls. Slowly, Zayn drew out again before sliding back in, smooth and mostly careful.

"Fuck." Harry swallowed convulsively, hands bunched in fists as Zayn continued to thrust in and out, hands braced on his hips, pushing into the virgin tightness of Harry's body again and again. It got gradually easier, and Harry found after a while he was rocking back onto him with the same rhythm. 

He'd imagined being fucked before, lying in his bedroom at home with the curtains shut tight and his fist around his cock, but found now it had never come close to reality, to this incredible sensation of being utterly filled and stretched and _used_.

Harry was starting to shake a little, a building warmth in his stomach coiling into the promise of approaching orgasm, when Zayn abruptly pulled all the way out, leaving Harry blinking in surprise. Zayn though, wriggled round in front of him and held out his arms.

"Come here," he instructed, and Harry climbed onto his lap, confused but willing.

"That's it. Now - there, that's good." Zayn pushed him into position over his cock and held himself steady. "There you go. Now, come down, slowly - there it is." Zayn half closed his eyes as Harry lowered himself onto his cock, hands tucked under Harry's armpits for support. 

Harry whimpered slightly at the fresh spike of pain, but the feeling of having Zayn back inside him made up for it. Eyes wide, he lowered himself all the way down, and was rewarded with a grin from Zayn.

"That's my little lost puppy." He slid his arms round Harry’s waist and pulled him closer, and Harry discovered that not only did this angle feel ten times better, but it also meant Zayn could kiss him.

"You gonna bounce for me Harry?" Zayn murmured in his ear, pushing up into Harry's body with little jerks of his hips. "You gonna ride me?"

Harry braced his hands on Zayn's shoulders, knees against the floor, and with Zayn's help started to fuck himself, rising and falling on Zayn's hard cock with breathy gasps of surprise at each burst of pleasure.

Zayn kissed him, lingering and filthy, fingers gripping Harry's buttocks as he moved.

"What would your mum say if she could see you now?" Zayn whispered, smirking as Harry went scarlet. "Jesus, how easy is it to make you blush? How have you even got spare blood for that?" He moved a hand in between them and started jerking Harry's cock with quick, rough strokes.

Harry whimpered again, although this time it wasn’t in pain. 

"Is this what you came for?" Zayn continued, breath hot against Harry's ear. "Did you come here to get fucked Harry? Did you wander up here on purpose, all big green eyes and flowers in your hair, looking for a man to spread you like this?" 

"No," Harry managed. "It wasn't like that. I'm not - "

"Not that sort of boy?" Zayn nipped at his jawline, before burying his head against Harry's shoulder, licking and sucking at the pale skin, determined to leave a mark. "You are now though, eh Harry? Look at you, fucking like you mean it. You're my little slut now Harry. All fucked out and broken in."

Harry sagged against Zayn's chest, legs burning with effort, chest heaving, the tension in his groin wound to a state where he felt just one more suggestive remark would make him lose it. Zayn wrapped his arms tightly round him, and kissed Harry hard on the mouth. 

"You gonna come for me Harry?" Zayn whispered against his lips. "You going to make a mess? You want to show me how much you like it?" His hand insinuated itself between them once more and this time it was too much. Barely had Zayn's fingers settled around his aching cock than Harry was shooting his load all over Zayn’s chest, sticky white trails painted across the dark lines of his tattoos.

"Fuck, you're amazing," Zayn groaned, and suddenly rammed himself up hard into Harry's body, once, twice, three times, rough and demanding. Harry felt the muscles spasming in Zayn's stomach, his hands tightening on Harry's hips, fingers digging in painfully tight as he came.

"Uhh." Zayn slumped backwards across his jacket contentedly, and Harry awkwardly climbed off him, feeling sore and dirty and wondering if Zayn would expect him to leave. It was almost fully dark by now, and he experienced a stab of fear.

"You alright chickie?" Zayn sat up and fumbled for something in the gloom. A second later light flooded the tent as he turned on a battery lantern, and peered at Harry's worried face. "Hey, what's up?" He held out his arms in apparently genuine concern, and Harry settled into them with a sigh of relief. 

"Nothing," he mumbled, drawing comfort from the arms now holding him tight. He realised Zayn's chest was still sticky with his own release and blushed, but didn't pull away. 

"Just let me - hang on." Zayn shifted into a position where he could take off the condom, and then tied a knot in the neck. Harry looked impressed and he grinned. "Not as easy as it looks."

"Do you do balloon animals as well?" Harry asked, and Zayn snorted. 

"Cheeky bastard. Come here." He wiped himself off with his shirt and unzipped the sleeping bag, wriggling under the fold and holding it open for Harry to join him. 

Once Harry was tucked snugly into his arms, Zayn reached out and turned the light off again. "You okay?" he murmured against Harry's hair, when all was quiet and Harry had relaxed against him. "You looked a bit wobbly back there for a second."

Harry shook his head. "I'm alright. Just needed a minute. It was a lot to take in," he added, and then immediately regretted it when there was a prompt explosion of laughter in the dark. 

"Well. Thanks," Zayn sniggered. 

"Oh, shut up." 

Zayn hugged him close, and Harry hugged him back, and they both laughed, quietly now. 

As they lay there drifting off to sleep, Harry listened drowsily to the sounds around them, people coming and going outside and talking in nearby tents, and realised with a hot flush of horror that they must have been perfectly audible themselves the whole time. He buried his face in Zayn's neck and prayed that nobody mentioned it the next morning.

It was light when Harry next opened his eyes, to find Zayn watching him with a faint smile.

"Morning sleepy," Zayn said, and Harry laughed. 

"Morning. Is it late?"

"Nah, not really. I need a piss though, so shift it." 

Harry rolled out of the way and Zayn clambered out of the sleeping bag, pulling his jeans on before unzipping the tent flap and disappearing. Harry took the opportunity to get dressed himself, finding his clothes in the chaos Zayn had created on the floor. He was just done when Zayn crawled back in.

"That was quick."

Zayn smirked. "Couldn’t be arsed to walk down to the bogs. Pissed on last night's campfire. Safety first, you know." He grinned as Harry winced. "How y'feeling, anyway?"

Harry considered. "Bit sore."

"Head or arse?"

"Both," Harry confessed, and Zayn sniggered and kissed him. 

"We good?" 

Harry nodded. "Thanks. For - taking me in and stuff."

Zayn snorted. "Yeah, well, thanks for letting me fuck you rigid. You hungry? I'll buy you breakfast if you like."

They emerged into the morning sun, and Harry stretched. He felt different, somehow. He also felt sore and stiff, and groaned slightly. To his surprise, Zayn slid an arm round him. 

"You'll be feeling that for a few days," he observed as they walked down the hill. "First time's always a bitch."

Harry leaned in to the protective shelter of Zayn's arm, and smiled up at him. "Worth every second," he promised, making Zayn smile in surprise. 

"Glad you think so. Certainly made my festival." Zayn ruffled his hair. "Hey, you lost your flowers."

"Doesn't matter."

"We should get you some new ones." Zayn's eyes roamed over the stalls coming up in front of them and grinned. "Or a tattoo. How about a henna tattoo? Or a fake piercing? Freak your mum out?"

"No thanks." Harry was getting used to Zayn's teasing, and smiled. 

"How about a breakfast beer?"

"Bacon roll'd be nicer," Harry told him, and Zayn cackled. 

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"It's too early for adventure. I'd rather have a shower."

"Huh. Kids these days." Zayn grinned. "Come on then kid, breakfast it is. Then I s'pose I'd better help you look for your friends." Harry looked up gratefully, and Zayn shrugged. "Can't have you running about loose, can I? All kind of weirdoes in this place. Might make you do all sorts of horrible things."

"Like take advantage of me in a tent?" Harry suggested cheerfully.

"Exactly. I mean - _I_ wouldn't trust me with you, would you?" 

"I would, actually." Harry shot him a sideways look, and tentatively slipped his hand into Zayn's. Zayn looked down in surprise.

"Daft bugger," he muttered, but he squeezed Harry's hand and kept hold of it as they walked off through the crowds.

\--


End file.
